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By: Angela Watkins, Mon Dec 24th, 2007
A heart-stopping thriller about ambition, betrayal, and the price of secrets. With everything he cares about in the balance, Nick discovers strengths he never knew he had. His enemies don't realize how far he'll fight to save his comapny. And nobody knows how far he'll go to protect his family. You know the story this is a book that I reviewed in 2005 while being the Business Coach Host - Writer. During this time this was one of the second largest women website in the world. I still have the original letter that was sent to me from St. Martin's Press to review this book. Now there are some ugly words in this book, but not in my review that I did. A heart-stopping thriller about ambition, betrayal, and the price of secrets. With everything he cares about in the balance, Nick discovers strengths he never knew he had. His enemies don't realize how far he'll fight to save his comapny. And nobody knows how far he'll go to protect his family. The office of the chief executive officer of tyhe Stratton Corporation wasn't really an office at all. At a quick glance you'd c all it a cubicle, but at the Stratton Corporation - which made the elegant silver-mesh fabric panels that served as the walls around the CEO's brushed-steel Stratton Ergon desk. Scott was standing by the giant plasma screen, touching it with the stylus to advance the PowerPoint slides. He had plenty of money, but he always seemed to wear the shirt, fraying at the collar, that he'd worn since Wharton. Nick's desk was kept fastidiously clear by his terrific assistant, Marjorie Dykstra. The only things on it were his computer (wireless keyboard and mouse, no pesky rat's nose of wires, a flat panel screen). a red model truck with the Stratton logo painted on the side, and framed pictures of his kids. Nothing was ever stolen. The intruder would force a window or on of the French doors, get inside, and leave a little message. Literally, a message: words spray-painted in Day-Glo orange, all capital letters formed with the precision of an architect or mechanical engineer: No Hiding Place. Audrey was a woman who liked routine, schedule, regularly. This was a personality trait that didn't go well with her job as a detective with the Fenwick Police Major Case Team calls could come at any time of day or night. Though she could no longer remember why, This was a job she'd wanted, a job she fought for. She was not just the only African-American member of the Major Case Unit but the only woman - the real difficulty, it turned out. No TV cameras here, though. No News channel Six truck. Maybe not even a reporter from the Fenwick Free Press. No one wanted to come down to the five hundred block of Hastings at six in the morning to report on the discovery of some body. She'd taped a sign to her computer at work, a quote from one Vernon Geberth, whose name was well known to all homicide investigators, the author of a classic text, Pratical Homicide Investigation. It said, "Remember: We work for God." She believed this. She felt deeply that, as much as she was troubled by her work - and she was, most of the time - she really was doing God's work here on earth. She was looking for the one lost sheep. But autopsies required a detachment she preferred not to have. So a missing persons report had been called in to the police by a woman whose father had never come home Friday night. The physical description - age, height, weight, clothing - matched the victim found in the dumpster on Hastings. A funeral home would have done some reconstruction, skillfully applied makeup,. The face would have looked artifical in that way that all dead bodies look at funeral homes. The brand new Fenwick Elementary School auditorium was fancier than a lot of college theaters: plush stadium seating, great acoustics, professional sound system and lighting. It was called the Devries Theater, a gift from Dorothy Stratton Devries, in honor of her late husband. As head of the Major Case Team, he had all sorts of administrative responsibilities and more than a dozen cops to supervise, and he spent much of his day in meetings. Music - Keith Jarrett, Bill Evans, Art Tatum, Charlie Mingus, Thelonious Monk, all the jazz piano greats - seemed to be his only escape. Cassie looked away. She turned to face him. "I'll bet being a CEO is sort of like being head of a family too." But it's never just a business to you, is it? See, I just realized something, Being a Stratton employee in the past couple of years must haave been like being the daughter of a schizophrenic. One day you're a beloved family member, the next you're a unit, a cost center, something to be slashed. She leaned against the counter, her arms folded. "None of us is perfect baby. And the Bible tells us about when Jesus refused to condemn an adulterer who was about to be stoned to death." Joseph Finder is the author of five previous novels, including The New York Times bestsellers Paranoia and High Crimes, which was basis for the Morgan Freeman/Ashley Judd movie. Finder is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers and has written extensively on espionage and International affairs for The New York Times, The Washington Post, & The New Republic. Angela Watkins, http://www.angelasgems.com , Book Reviewer, Public Relations, Mgmt, Consulting, Personal Life Coach